


Wake Me

by uncreativename



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hospice, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4037446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncreativename/pseuds/uncreativename
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura’s father has been transferred to a hospice; she just wants to see him smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Me

**Author's Note:**

> Liz (aka duckiesurprise) and I _kind of_ challenged each other to write in each other’s narrative (she writes in second person, I write in third). So here is my attempt at writing something in second person. Thanks to Liz for the plot bunny and helping with it. And, of course, many thanks to Holley (platypiandi), who is the best beta a girl could ask for.
> 
> This fic was _loosely_ based on a Fake!Engaged prompt: _my dad’s dying wish is to see me get married and you’re a friend so hey let’s get engaged._
> 
> The title is from Wake Me by Bleachers. This line got to me while writing: "I'd rather be sad with you than anywhere away from you."

His sad, hopeful smile is what does you in.

You watch his eyes zero in on your hand, firmly in Carmilla’s, as you walk into the room. You two are by no means together. She’s never expressed an interest, and you’ve resigned your life to pining for the woman. But considering the circumstances? Now was definitely not the time to start a relationship with anyone, much less her, anyway. Plus she was your best friend, your roommate, your rock whenever you needed her.

And you need her right now.

Your wonderful, loving father is in a hospice. He was transferred there a few days ago. You were told by his doctors that he wasn’t doing well - this week may be his last - and Carmilla held you as you cried. She outright paid for your train tickets home. She offered to come along when you told her you didn’t know if you’d be able to do it alone. She got the rental car. She held your hand the entire way to your childhood home (which had clearly not been lived in for a while - he’d gone from hospital to hospice, and had not been back to the house in months). She held your hand as she drove you both to the hospice.

You take a deep breath - you feel it catch in your throat. A squeeze from Carmilla’s hand, still holding yours, grounds you again.

“Hi dad.”

He won’t stop smiling at the two of you. Even looking frail in the bed ( _god_ , he looks so small), he exudes _so much warmth_. You would do anything to keep him smiling.

“Laura, my beautiful Laura. You made it,” he says and his _smile_ \- your dad’s smile is _wonderful,_ how have you not noticed until now? - almost distracts you from how frail and weak his voice sounds. 

“Of course, dad. I came as soon as I could.” You let go of Carmilla and approach his bedside, and as if reading your mind, he slowly, laboriously, opens his arms and pulls you into a hug. 

“Is this someone special, Laura?” He asks, his words muffled into your hair. You laugh a little and turn back. Carmilla’s standing at the door, a small smile on her face. She’s clearly uncomfortable, so you lift an arm towards her, beckoning her to come in.

“Dad, this is Carmilla,” you say. Carmilla makes her way next to you and shakes your dad’s hand. She looks shy, you’ve never seen her look shy before. “She’s my…”

(Suddenly you remember, with extreme clarity, a phone call you had with your dad a few weeks ago: _“I just...I just hope this doesn’t take me before I know you’ll be okay. You’ll be taken care of. I just want you to find a woman who loves you the way I loved your mom, the way she loved me.”_ )

“Special someone?” Your dad looks up at you, again, _so hopeful_ , and you say the words before you can stop yourself.

“She’s my fiancée.”

Next to you Carmilla stiffens. You shoot her a quick look - you two do this, communicate silently - and although she arches an eyebrow at you, you know Carmilla understands. She smiles at you - it looks more like a grimace - before clearing her throat and saying, quietly, “...yeah.” 

She takes your hand again, for effect.

(You really do adore her. You’re lucky she’s your friend.) 

You let out a sigh of relief - you’re going to have to explain yourself to Carmilla, you _know_ she’s going to be _pissed_ at you later. But right now, with her hand in yours, you see your dad’s eyes shine. His smile is even bigger than it was before. He clasps his hands together and poorly holds back a giggle.

“Really?” 

Carmilla speaks up first, which surprises you.

“Uh, well...we weren't planning on blurting it out like that but...yeah, Mr. Hollis. I’m...I’m going to marry your daughter. If that's okay with you.” She clears her throat then loops her arm around your waist. “I love her.”

The way Carmilla looks at you in this moment - _god,_ you almost believe her. 

You wish this was true. For a million reasons. The top of the list being how happy your father seems over the news, god you wish this was real for him. A close second is the thundering in your chest, reminding you that you really haven’t stifled your feelings for Carmilla as much as you thought you did.

He seems to believe Carmilla though, as evidenced by the tears he’s openly letting fall. You feel your eyes water too - and to your surprise, Carmilla’s tearing up as well.

He pulls you both into a big hug, repeating over and over how happy he is for you both and how proud he is of you.

You feel like an asshole. You’re lying to him. You’re dragging your best friend into this.

But you also feel great. You’re not curing him, you’re not destroying this _fucking cancer_ that is taking your beautiful, wonderful father away from you, but you’re making him happy. You’re doing more for him in this moment than the doctors can. You’re making him feel better. You’re making him smile again. 

You think of that as you feel Carmilla sink further into you, you feel your dad’s arms squeeze you tighter.

 

* * *

 

You’re both silent on the way back to your house.

Carmilla’s driving - she’s been incredible to you for the last few hours, just sitting and talking with you and your dad. Considering the circumstances, your dad seemed to be in bright spirits. He really did seem to like Carmilla too. He gave you some shit for not telling him sooner, and he questioned the fact that neither of you had rings, but Carmilla jumped in, said that you two were still saving up for them.

She’s actively participating in your terrible lie, but she’s being _so incredible_ to your father, to you even, and you feel yourself falling into every romantic thought you’ve had about her.

You could really love this woman.

You wish this was real. For your dad. And for you.

Suddenly you’re back at your childhood home, pulling into the driveway. Carmilla parks the car, gets out, then quickly walks to your side of the door, opening it for you.

“Come on, cupcake. Let’s get inside. It’s been a long day…” she says, trailing off. Your fingers find hers, and they lace together as you walk up to your front porch. You’d been holding her hand all day anyway; it was like muscle memory at this point.

You pulled out the key from your purse, and the second you’re inside, the apologies fall from your lips.

“Carmilla, I’m _so sorry_ -”

You don’t finish that thought, because Carmilla’s body is pressed against yours, her hands are cupping your face, then you’re kissing, and holy shit, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Every girl you’ve ever dated, every person you’ve ever kissed, was just practice for the real thing, was practice for _this._ She’s kissing you and you feel something _other than_ profoundly sad for the first time since your dad was admitted to the hospice.

You move to wrap your arms around her but whimper when she pulls away.

“You’re going to have to explain what happened today, ‘cause I’m confused as hell, but…I wasn’t lying to your dad. I know I may be a bitch sometimes but...I couldn’t lie to him.”

You’re not sure you know how to breathe any more. You pull her closer to you again and she lets you. You kiss her again, not knowing if you can really adequately _say_ anything.

You really love her.

You pull away to tell her as much, when she interrupts you.

“I’m sorry it took me _this_ to get the courage to say anything, but I do love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a while.”

“Carm,” your words catch, so you kiss her again, finding the strength to say the words in her lips. “I love you too. Are you kidding me? Of course I love you.”

Her eyes tear up again - for as long as you’ve known her, you’ve only seen her cry twice, first time being earlier today - and she breathes a sigh of relief.

“So this thing, with your dad...I mean, we don’t need to talk about it right now but…”

“Oh god, _that_.” The words pour out, you can’t stop yourself. “Carm, I’m so sorry, it was his wish, last time we spoke, that he wanted to see me _happy_ \- _happy_ and with someone, and you were there and I just wanted to keep him _smiling_ so I -”

She silences you with a kiss. “We’ll figure it out.” She shrugs. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you agree, before leaning back in.

 

* * *

 

The next day when you visit him, he gives you the combination to the safe in your house. He tells you he wants you to have everything that’s in it. He tells you there’s something inside that he thinks you’ll want to give Carmilla.

When you go home, you open the safe. There’s a few things in it - some cash, some important documents. There’s also a small box.

Your mother’s engagement ring and wedding band are inside.

You don’t tell Carmilla. Yet.

 

* * *

 

You ask him about it the next day, he just smiles again - he’s so much weaker than he was when you first arrived - and instead, asks: “So are you two really together, Laura?”

Your head whips up from your laptop - you left work for this, and as gracious as they were to allow you to leave, you still have a few articles to finish up. You try not to visibly gulp, but you definitely do, and his face tells you he’s smarter than you gave him credit for. Of course he is.

“What do you mean?”

You thought you had him convinced. Despite the newness of your ‘relationship’ (well, whatever it was, it was only just a few days since you got engaged and kissed for the first time), you _felt_ like you and Carmilla had been together for much longer. It felt natural to have gone from _just friends_ to something more. So you’re genuinely surprised. 

“Laura, you can barely keep a secret, you don’t think I was going to believe that you’d been secretly dating your roommate for the last year?” 

You know that you’d be a really shitty person if you kept up this lie. You spoke with the doctors earlier today, when Carmilla was still here (before your dad asked if she could grab him a double double from Tim Hortons), and they told you it wasn’t...it wasn’t good. He had days, if that.

You sigh and scratch the back of your neck.

Yeah...you can’t lie to him anymore.

So you tell him the truth - that it was a spur of the moment lie, Carmilla had no idea but she played along immediately, and they didn’t mean to offend him or lie to him. Laura just wanted him to be happy.

“But the good news is,” you offer, not looking up at her dad, still incredibly embarrassed and ashamed, “we both came to the realization that we actually _do_ have feelings for each other…” 

“So you’re not engaged, but you’re together now?”

“We’re...kind of engaged, actually. I love her, dad, and she loves me, and we’ve been roommates for forever, and I’ve had feelings for her for even longer, and I think...I think this will work.” 

“Good. I figured your mom’s rings wouldn’t go to waste.”

“Seriously?”

He shrugged. “She’d want you and Carmilla to have them. Me too.”

Just then, Carmilla came back, announcing her presence with a, “I got your coffee, Ron, and your cold, sweet, brown, not-coffee beverage, Laura.”

“An iced coffee is _still_ coffee, Carmilla,” you say, taking the coffee from her and accepting the brief kiss on the lips from her. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to that - you don’t know if you want to. 

She hands your dad his drink, which he thanks her for, then says, “I was just having an interesting conversation with my daughter, Carmilla.”

“Really?” she asks, leaning against the wall next to the door. “About what?”

“Dad knows,” you say, sheepishly.

Her eyebrows furrow. She looks between you both - your face, which is probably red and your dad’s face and his raised eyebrows, before settling her eyes on you.

“Well does he at least know that I’m in love with you?”

He answers for you. “I do.”

“And do you know,” she begins, looking directly at him, “that I intend to marry her? I always have - I’ve been a coward, but you kind of...pushed me in the right direction.”

“I do.” He nods.

“And you approve?” 

He smiles, the loveliest smile, which you’ve only ever seen directed to _you_. You love that he’s smiling at Carmilla that way. You feel yourself grin as he says, “I do.” 

She let’s out a breath she was holding - you barely hold in your _squee_ over how lucky you are that your girlfriend (whatever she is) is _so cute_ \- and she pushes off the wall and moves to stand at the other side of his bed, across from you.

“Cool. Well, now that that’s settled, Ron, would you like to go for a walk with me? I could grab you a wheelchair and we could get out of here while Laura finishes up her article?”

He smiles at her again and says yes. 

You really don’t know why it’s taken you _this long_ to really figure out your feelings for each other. But you realize, as your kind-of-fiancée/girlfriend and your lovely father leave the room in a deep discussion about anglerfish, that while you’re trying to not have any regrets about your relationship with your dad, you’re _really_ glad he got to know Carmilla at all, even as briefly as this.

You cherish this fact.

 

* * *

 

 

You ask her later, when you’re both at your house, lying in your childhood bed together, what she and him talked about on their walk.

“Nothing,” she says coyly, peppering a few kissings on your face. You giggle and push her away.

“No, tell me, what were you talking about?”

“Anglerfish,” she says, seriously. You give her _that look_ , the look she always succumbs too, how you’ve _always_ gotten your way with her (seriously, it’s ridiculous how long it took for you two to _figure it out_ ), and she concedes. “We talked about you, mostly. He casually threatened me, I acted appropriately scared.”

“ _Really._ ”

“I also…,” Carmilla shifts away from you and sits up, so you sit up as well. She’s got her serious face on, so you know whatever she’s going to say is difficult for her. You take her hand in yours and press a kiss to her fingers. “I asked for permission to marry you.”

You drop her hands. Which you realize was not a good thing to do, as she suddenly shifts away with a, “I know, it’s early, but we’re already engaged,” and she moves to get off the bed.

You pull her back. “No, no, no, it’s not too early, stop Carm.” She stops and lets you pull her into a kiss, keeping your foreheads together. “Did he give it to you? The permission.”

“He did.”

You smile as she presses her lips against yours. You deepen it immediately, enjoying the fact that yes, you can do this, and yes, she loves you too, almost as much as you love her.

You pull away to tell her as much, and she kisses your nose, which makes you giggle. Your eyes are still closed though, and you open them to see her staring at you, her eyes tracing from your hair, down to your eyes, to your nose, then to your lips.

She smiles, and you think it mirrors yours - but she tells you otherwise.

“You have his smile, y’know?”

 

* * *

 

A few days later, with his hand in yours, and Carmilla’s arms around you, he smiles at you, one last time.

 

* * *

 

 

A few months later you visit your dad’s gravesite, next to your mother’s.

You miss him every day. You miss his booming laugh. His overprotectiveness. Every phone call you get, you expect to be from him.

Most of all you miss his smile.

You tell him as much, sitting at his plot. You talk for a while, telling him about anything and everything, like you would usually. (You can almost hear his “mmhmms” and “yes’ms”, which he’d always say, clearly only half-listening to your rants, but still always willing to be there to let you do so.) 

Next to you, Carmilla rests her head on your shoulder. You give her forehead a kiss and you nudge her, encouraging her to speak to him too. So she does; she playfully complains about you, a little, so you nudge her a little harder and she switches gears. She tells him about your wedding prep.

You tell him that you wish he’d be there, with mom, but you know on some level that he will be.

It’s okay to miss him, you know this. And you do. But you know he’s looking out for you, like he always did.

Soon the sun starts dropping, so you finish up your conversation. Carmilla stands up first and holds out her hand. You take it, you feel your mother’s engagement ring around her finger, and you know you’ll be okay.

You smile at the sky, at your parents, then your eyes fall back to earth. You smile at Carmilla.


End file.
